


Before He Cheats

by EllanaSan



Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types, Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins, The Hunger Games (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Drunken Shenanigans, F/M, Implied/Referenced Cheating, Vandalism, a poor car is hurt, not the right car, seneca is an asshole in this one
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-29
Updated: 2021-02-05
Packaged: 2021-03-15 07:14:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,110
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29060370
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EllanaSan/pseuds/EllanaSan
Summary: “This isn’t Seneca’s car.” Effie whispered, horrified.“Nope.” The guy shrugged again.“This is your car.” she deduced.“So I’ve been telling you, sweetheart.” he snorted.
Relationships: Cinna/Portia (Hunger Games), Haymitch Abernathy/Effie Trinket
Comments: 35
Kudos: 96





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is a silly two-shots, title is obviously taken from Carrie Underwood's song (very nice song, go listen if you don't know it). Also I didn't lie when I said it was teh year of crack.
> 
> Second part next week! Let me know what you thought!

Effie’s high heels were not functioning properly and, since she had designed them, she blamed her best friend for it.

Not that Portia cared.

Because Portia was too busy trying to keep upright herself, clinging to Effie’s arm for balance and giggling at her own clumsiness.

In a distant part of her mind, Effie knew they were being reckless wandering empty streets in short shiny dresses at this time of night, drunk out of their minds, but she had ceased to care about anything past the last three shots of tequila.

Her head was spinning, her stomach and her throat burned from all the raw alcohol and she only knew one thing and one thing only.

“Seneca’s an _asshole_.” The words slurred together as they careened into a smaller street that Portia insisted was a shortcut to the avenue where all the best clubs were.

“Preach!” her best friend aggressively agreed, pumping her fist in the air. “An _asshole_! All men are _assholes_!” She paused and made a face. “Except Cinna. Cinna’s pretty sweet.”

“He is.” Effie nodded.

They were momentarily distracted because she misjudged her direction and since Portia was in so state to correct their trajectory, they swerved off the pavement and onto the thankfully deserted road.

Portia laughed, apparently vastly amused by the fact they didn’t entirely control their limbs anymore. Effie was more troubled by the rebellion of her body but she eventually laughed along because _really_ …

Well, if she fell down and broke something, it would just be her luck, wouldn’t it? It would just be the cherry on a very, _very_ terrible day that had started with a visit from her mother and a subsequent discovery that her boyfriend had been cheating on her – with _a man_ , not that it was truly relevant in this day and age – and, more importantly, had used her as a buffer to hide his sexuality from his family – _without_ making her privy of that little fact.

“I’d have played along if he’d asked me…” she muttered, following her own train of thoughts. “He didn’t have to pretend to love me. That was… That wasn’t nice.”

“That was a _douche_ move.” Portia added, having been subjected to that particular argument several times in the last few hours. 

“He could have just told me he needed a fake girlfriend.” she insisted, her lips starting to wobble again. “He made me think…”

He had made her think they were serious, that he would propose and they would get married and… Her parents had actually _approved_ the match for once. He had let her think her whole life was finally heading in the right direction and that wasn’t okay.

She hadn’t been in love, not really, but she had been willing to give everything to that relationship – and she _had_. What hurt, really, was the fact that he had _played_ her instead of _trusting_ her. It was humiliating to find out you were the butt of the joke instead of a willing accomplice.

“Why are we in the middle of the road?” Portia hummed, looking around her as if it was a great puzzle.

There were traffic lights lazily blinking in the distance but still no sound of car engines. It was too late, Effie figured, or too early or too _something_.

But still Portia had a point and they needed to get off the road and…

That was when she saw _it_.

Perfectly lined up with the curb.

Seneca’s shiny car.

The brand new black SUV with all the expensive options – including the heated seats – that he had brought home a couple of weeks ago like a proud father. Looking at him, you would have thought he had birthed the car himself. He had been _obsessed_ with that truck since.

Effie hated the monstrous car.

She much preferred his Lamborghini. 

“Portia…” she whispered, freezing in the middle of the road, her eyes riveted to her prize.

Portia froze too, her fingers tightening on her arms, her dark eyes sweeping around the deserted street as if she expected a hoard of zombies to suddenly descend on them. “What?”

“That’s Seneca’s car.” she told her in a hushed murmur that still carried too far.

Her friend frowned. “Are you sure?”

“Oh, _yes_.” she hissed.

It made sense. His favorite club was around the corner. The whole point of the two of them wandering through dark streets from the little usual bar had been to go to that very club and _be seen_ so nobody would suspect Effie was hurt by the break-up that was the latest hot piece of gossip in their social circle. It made _a lot_ of sense. And, in her opinion, it was _fate_. 

“But don’t they have valets at the _Cornucopia_?” Portia insisted, confused.

“Who cares?” Effie retorted. It didn’t matter why Seneca hadn’t entrusted the car to valets or private parking. All that mattered was that the car was innocently sitting _there_ without any kind of protection whatsoever. 

She headed straight for the SUV, dragging Portia with her.

“What are we doing?” her best friend asked, sounding just a tiny bit anxious. Her anxiety raised a notch when Effie trailed her fake red nails along the side of the car thoughtfully… “Sweetie, _black woman_ here. If anyone sees me next to an expensive car and calls the police…”

“I’ll be quick.” Effie promised, applying more pressure with her nails. It left a mark but not enough. She wanted to leave a mark. She wanted Seneca to hurt the way _she_ was hurting. She wanted to make him _angry_. Payback was an ugly thing. She scratched harder but the noise made her grit her teeth and it barely peeled the immaculate black paint…

“Oh, for goodness’ sake, if you’re going to do this, _use_ _your_ _keys_.” Portia hissed. “I’ll be the lookout.”

_Her keys_.

Yes.

That would work.

That would work _really well_ indeed.

She selected the one to Seneca’s apartment with glee, a new plan already forming in her head. Maybe once she was done shredding his car to ribbons, they could sneak into his place and… and… Toss toilet papers _everywhere_ or something.

She ran the key from the truck’s fender to mid-door, leaving a satisfying scratch in its wake.

“Hey!” a man shouted in the distance, proving, if anything, that Portia was terrible at looking out.

“You’re a terrible lookout!” Effie accused because her alcohol soaked brain couldn’t process too many thoughts at once.

“I’m a stylist not a criminal!” her best friend retorted.

They tried to flee as two big men ran toward them but the liquor and the heels weren’t cooperating.

“Where do you think you’re going?” one of the man snapped, grabbing her arm hard and swinging her around.

Portia had been clinging to her hand and it made her lose her balance so badly that she tripped and fell down. Effie shrieked, batting at the hand that was holding her, whacking the man’s chest, kicking him in the shin… It prompted a groan and a curse from him.

“I have pepper spray!” Portia warned from the ground. “I’m not afraid to use it! Leave us alone!”

Even as she struggled to get free, Effie saw her best friend emptying her clutch on the road to find the promised can of pepper spray.

“Oh boy…” the second man snorted. He hadn’t bothered getting closer, he was right next to the car, inspecting the damage. “Want me to call it in, buddy?”

“She keyed my _fucking_ car, what do you _think_ , Chaff?” the one holding her growled.

When the words penetrated her brain, Effie went limp. “What do you mean _your_ car?”

The man gave her a firm shake but, she noticed, now that she wasn’t trying to escape, he also wasn’t gripping her _that_ hard anymore. “I _saw_ you. You’re gonna tell me that ain’t your keys on the ground?”

Her blue eyes darted from the very pink pompom keychain abandoned on the floor next to the car’s door to the black man with bulky shoulders who was tapping on his phone.

“That’s my keys but it’s not your car.” she argued.

Just as Portia finally found the spray can and bolted to her feet with a war cry.

Or tried to bolt to her feet.

She fell right back down with a small distressed strangled noise.

“Oh, for _fuck’s_ sake!” the second man scoffed, putting his phone back in his pocket, apparently deciding that calling the police could wait. He strode closer and Effie tried to get in between him and her friend but the other guy was still holding her tight. “Here, love. Let’s pick up your _shit_ and get you upright, alright?” He shook his head and shot the man who had her a complicated look. “They’re torched.”

“Doesn’t mean it gives them a pass to key my _fucking_ car.” he grumbled.

“But it is _not_ your _fucking_ car!” Effie exclaimed with a huff. Then she winced. “I apologize for the language.” That was hard to say when your tongue was heavy in your mouth and it came out a bit unintelligible. It wasn’t the point anyway. “That’s not your car.”

The man lifted his eyebrows. “I promise you, sweetheart, that it _is_ my _fucking_ car.”

She blinked at the pet name.

_Rude_ , she thought. 

Less rude than keying a stranger’s truck though.

But it wasn’t his car so the point was moot.

She glanced at Portia but it seemed the other guy _was_ simply trying to help her put everything back in her clutch and not trying to attack her or something. Since her friend was still clutching her pepper spray can and was watching him attentively in case he made a wrong move, she turned back to the man who was so intent on arguing with her.

He had too long untrimmed washed-out blond hair, stubble ate his jaw, he had probably broken his nose once and there was a smirk hovering at the corner of his mouth despite the blatant irritation on his face. His eyes were the most striking though. They were grey. A stormy sort of grey. And once she stared straight at them, she found it a little bit hard to breathe for a second.

That was likely the tequila.

“You’re mistaken.” she insisted.

He let out a disbelieving scoff that could have almost passed for a snort. “Lady, I’m _fucking_ not.”

“You are very vulgar.” she commented, relaxing a little now that she was fairly certain the two men didn’t mean them harm. His friend had helped Portia to her feet and stepped back, both hands in the air to show he wasn’t a threat once that was done. Well, not both hands. One hand and…

“Guilty as charged.” the man still holding her mocked, distracting her from his friend’s missing hand. “As guilty as you and that key.”

“But it is not _your_ car!” she snapped. “It is _Seneca’s_.”

“What’s a Seneca?” the other man asked, burying stump and hand in his pockets.

“That’s her asshole ex-boyfriend.” Portia offered, finally putting the spray can back in her clutch. “He cheated on her and made a fool of her and now _everyone_ knows he just used her so his dad didn’t find out he liked guys. We _hate_ him.”

There was a moment of shocked silence from the two men and Effie couldn’t quite blame them.

“Okay. Fair enough.” The other man laughed. “We hate him.”

“Don’t humor them.” the guy holding Effie grumbled.

“Oh, come on, Haymitch…” he retorted. “That kind of stuff only happens to you.”

_Haymitch_ …

It was a nice name, Effie decided, and it suited him well enough. It was manly and he looked very manly. He had a strong build, large shoulders, and his grip was firm.

“I’m sorry your boyfriend’s an asshole but that ain’t his car.” Haymitch said, finally letting go of her arm. “And even if it _was_ his car, you know it’s _a bit_ against the law to key it? Doesn’t matter how big of an asshole he is.”

“ _Of course_ , it _is_ his car.” she insisted. She looked at the car again. It _was_ Seneca’s car, wasn’t it? It was the _same_ car.

“ _Of course_ , it’s _not_.” the man taunted.

“But… But…” Effie stammered, looking at Portia for help. Her friend seemed just as lost as she felt. She was hugging herself, glancing from the car to the men, a little sobered up by the ordeal maybe. Effie would have _loved_ to sober up, however her brain wasn’t cooperating. “But… It looks like a car a guy buys to compensate for a small penis and you do not look like the sort of man who needs that.”

Haymitch stared at her.

His friends erupted in guffaws again.

“Thanks.” Haymitch eventually snorted, irritation completely giving to amusement. “Needed a new car. My friend picked one for me.” He glanced at the other man. “Remind me to ask Finnick if he was trying to tell me something about my _dick_ when he chose that car.”

His friend shook his head, holding his belly because he was laughing too hard.

And that was when Effie spotted the undeniable proof the car _wasn’t,_ in fact, Seneca’s.

“There is a flower.” she whispered.

It was a small thing. A fake daisy dangling from the rear-view mirror.

He shrugged. “Yeah. One of my kids put it there for good luck.”

Effie’s heart was beating _hard_ against her ribcage. She felt sick. And not quite _alcohol_ _sick_.

“This _isn’t_ Seneca’s car.” she whispered, horrified.

“Nope.” The guy shrugged again.

“This is _your_ car.” she deduced.

“So I’ve been telling you, sweetheart.” Haymitch snorted.

“But I _hurt_ it.” Effie’s lips wobbled. “I hurt your car!”

“ _Wow_.” the man said, awkwardly reaching for her arm again. “It’s okay. It hasn’t _hurt_ it. It’s okay. Don’t…”

She burst into heavy ugly sobs.

“Oh, sweetie!” Portia exclaimed and suddenly her best friend was hugging her and crying too.

“I am _so_ sorry!” she wailed.

“I am sorry too!” her friend sobbed. “I am even more sorry that we will go to jail and it wasn’t even the right car!”

Haymitch took a step back, watching them like they were crazy.

“Well, that’s a mess.” the other guy commented. “But they’re gonna be a hit in the drunk tank…”

“Shut up, Chaff.” Haymitch grumbled with a sigh. “Help me get them off the road. _Bloody fucking_ dangerous…”

“So rude!” she complained but she let the men shepherd her and Portia to the pavement where, admittedly, no car could accidentally hit them. Then she felt bad because there she was complaining about rudeness when she had committed a crime. “I am _so sorry_ I hurt your car…”

“It’s fine.” Haymitch sighed again. “Give it another couple of weeks and it’s gonna be scratched and bumped beyond repairs anyway.” He exchanged an amused look with his friend. “Once Katniss gets behind the wheel…”

“That kid’s a danger on the road.” Chaff agreed.

“Ain’t like I’ve got the safest job for cars anyway. So, yeah… It’s okay.” he insisted. “Like I said, give it a couple of weeks and you won’t be able to tell it’s been done by a key.”

“Want me to call someone?” Chaff asked.

The question was directed at Portia and she let go of Effie to take a pleading step toward him. “Please, don’t call the police. We’ll pay for the damage.”

“Yeah, that ship has sailed. Haven’t arrested you yet, we ain’t gonna do it now.” Chaff sighed. “I meant someone to pick you up. We can’t let you wandering out here by yourself. You’re too drunk, love, it’s dangerous.”

Effie’s lips were still wobbling and tears were still rolling down her cheeks as she glanced from her friend to the untouched side of the truck.

“Come on…” Haymitch cleared his throat and awkwardly brushed the back of his hand against her cheek. To wipe the tears off, she figured after a second. “Stop crying. Just a _shitty_ car. Ain’t worth it. Doesn’t sound like your ex’s worth it either.”

She licked her lips when he dropped his hand, wishing he would touch her face again, wishing she could lean into his palm and…

“Cinna?” Portia asked in her phone. “We did something _really_ bad and we need a ride… We’re… We’re… I’m not sure…”

Portia sounded lost and a bit scared and that was Effie’s fault. If she hadn’t had the _genius_ idea of committing petty crimes…

“Here, give me.” Chaff said, snatching the phone from her friend’s hand. “Hi, man. No, she’s fine, they’re fine. They’re just _really_ wasted, we don’t want to leave them like that. Yeah, no problem, we’ll wait with them until you get here.”

She barely listened as the man gave Cinna an address and Portia took the phone back to talk to her boyfriend some more. She vaguely registered that Cinna wanted her to stay on the phone, just in case, which was probably not a bad idea given that, for all he knew, they were with two strange men who had picked them up in the street…

Haymitch was still watching her and she found herself licking her lips again, her drunken brain choosing to forget the fact she probably looked like a melted panda.

“You have children?” she asked.

His face softened. “Yeah. Two girls. One boy.” He made a small face. “Well, the boy comes with the oldest girl, really.” He paused for a second and then shrugged. “They’re not mine by blood but they’re still mine.”

That was a lot of complicated information and she wasn’t sure she processed all of it. Portia was still talking to Cinna on the phone and Chaff was chiming in from time to time. She and Haymitch were standing a little to the side from them and it felt a bit like they were in their own bubble. Mostly because he was watching her with that look on his face that probably meant he wanted to see her naked. That was encouraging.

“No wife?” she asked.

His grey eyes twinkled with amusement. “Not that I’m aware.”

Why couldn’t he give a simple answer to a simple question? She tilted her head to the side, deciding that meant he wasn’t married. “Girlfriend?”

“I don’t really do girlfriends.” he replied.

He didn’t really… _Oh._ “Boyfriend?”

His eyes widened a bit and he took a step closer as if in reflex. She stepped back, leaning against his poor car. He stilled, leaving her enough space not to feel crowded.

“I’m very much into women, sweetheart.” he said in a voice that wasn’t quite a growl but… Oh, it hit _all_ the right spots. It made things in her body clench with _want_. “Just ain’t into dating.”

She hadn’t realized Portia’s chatter had died down until her best friend spoke again. “Oh, _hush_ , darling, we aren’t about to get assaulted and this is _much more_ interesting than talking with you on the phone…”

Haymitch shot a startled look at Portia and Chaff, as if he had completely forgotten they were there. He was distracted now but Effie wasn’t. Her mind was very much on track.

“I’m cold.” she declared suddenly, crossing the distance between them in two short wobbly strides – she really needed Portia to fix her heels or make them more liquor-friendly – and sneaked a hand under his open leather jacket. He sucked in a breath when her palm made contact with his chest. “Your jacket seems warm. Is there room for me in there?”

She pressed closer to him, looking straight into his eyes…

“So what?” He smirked. “You keyed my car, now you wanna steal my jacket?”

“I want you to kiss me.” she stated plainly because, clearly, it would take _that_ to make him understand. 

Did she imagine him leaning in a little? There wasn’t that much space between them now. She could feel his breath on her mouth and…

“If only you were a little less wasted and I was a little more drunk…” he muttered.

She pouted. “I _quite_ know what I am doing, thank you.”

“The scratch marks on my car say otherwise, sweetheart.” he deadpanned, reaching out to tuck a wayward strand of hair behind her ear.

“Effie.” she offered, realizing belatedly that she had never introduced herself. “My name’s Effie.”

“Effie…” he repeated.

She shivered just then, not quite having made up the thing about being cold and, with a long suffering sigh, he shrugged off his jacket and wrapped it over her shoulders. They never broke eye contact.

Effie felt…

“Is he falling in love with her?” Portia whispered.

“ _Bloody_ looks like it.” Chaff snorted, sounding incredulous.

It broke the spell and Haymitch stepped back, clearing his throat.

“Fuck off.” he told his friend. “I just don’t want her to freeze to death.”

“Right.” Chaff mocked. “Real gentlemanly of you, buddy… Gives a brand new ring to _protect and serve._ ”

Cinna’s sport car lined up next to them before he could say anything. Portia tossed herself at her boyfriend’s neck before he was even completely out of the car, blabbering about everything that had gone wrong that night to his clear bewilderment.

Cinna surveyed the damage to the car with a wince and offered to leave Haymitch a check but Haymitch dismissed the offer with a wave of his hand.

“I think he wants the girl instead.” Chaff chuckled as a very loud aside to Portia. Portia nudged him in the ribs, giggling like an idiot.

“That can be arranged.” Effie purred, stepping right into Haymitch’s space again.

He didn’t move back but his eyes became even stormier. “Don’t tempt me.”

“But I _am_ tempting you.” she hummed.

“ _Alright_.” Cinna cut in, sounding a bit frightened and dazzled by the whole scene he had walked into. He grabbed Effie’s arm and gently tugged her back. “I think it’s sleepy time for the ladies.”

“But I want to stay with Haymitch.” she protested.

“And I want to have a drink with Chaff!” Portia argued, tossing her arm around Chaff’s shoulders. “He’s _fun_.” She paused for a second when the man slid his shortened arm around her waist to steady her. “But no funny business. I’m in love with that one.”

She pointed at Cinna.

Cinna managed a sweet loving smile that made Effie’s stomach churn with jealousy.

She wanted someone to look at her like that too.

Chaff barked with laughter. “Tell you what, love, you go with your boyfriend and we can have a drink soon, yeah?”

Effie thought he was humoring her but Portia seemed satisfied with that because she let him help her into the car. Cinna shot Chaff a grateful look.

“I’m _really_ sorry about all of this.” he apologized again.

“No problem.” Haymitch said. “We’ve seen worse, trust me.”

Effie didn’t understand at once she was being herded to the car and, once she did, she didn’t really understand why Haymitch wasn’t following. When it occurred to her, Haymitch _wasn’t_ coming with them, she twisted out of Cinna’s loose grip and planted herself in front of Haymitch with a sad pout.

“Don’t you want me?” she asked plaintively. Dignity could wait. She didn’t have much of that left that day anyway.

He nudged her chin up and brushed his lips against hers in something that wasn’t quite a kiss. Her eyelids fluttered shut. “Ask me again when you’re sober.”

That was all well and good but…

“Phone.” she demanded, in a jerk of clear-thinking.

“Bossy.” he remarked.

She didn’t even bat an eyelash. “Does it turn you on?”

He slipped his phone from his back pocket, unlocked it and handed it to her. The screen was cracked. She didn’t let that stop her.

She typed in her number, narrowed her eyes at the string of digits and then shoved the phone under Cinna’s impatient face. “Is it right?”

“Do you _really_ think I know your number by heart?” her friend deadpanned.

“Check the number!” Portia ordered from the car. She would have stepped out to help but Chaff gently shoved her right back into her seat.

Cinna did check the number before handing the phone back to Haymitch with another apology that was, in Effie’s opinion, unnecessary.

“Call me!” she managed to shout before Cinna _finally_ managed to get her to climb on the backseat.

She wasn’t sure if Haymitch answered. The last thing she heard before the car door was slammed shut was Chaff’s laughter. She twisted around when Cinna put the car in gear and saw him clap Haymitch’s shoulder good-naturally.

Haymitch stared at the car as it left though and she stared right back until he disappeared when Cinna turned in an adjacent street.

She fell back on her seat with a sigh.

“Seatbelt, Effie.” Cinna reminded her. “I swear, the two of you…”

He looked more amused than annoyed and, if he had been a little irritated at all, it vanished when Portia grabbed his hand and pressed a light kiss on it.

Effie struggled with her seatbelt but it was only once she was buckled in that she realized why she felt so bulky. She had never handed the leather jacket back…

She buried her nose in the collar and breathed in.

It smelt good.

He _had_ to call to get it back, didn’t he?

And then she would be soberer and she would ask the question again…


	2. Chapter 2

Effie woke up with a groan and a queasy stomach.

She tentatively opened an eyelid, saw that it was already mid-morning, vaguely recalled slamming the off-button on the alarm, and buried her face in her pillow. Tequila was the devil. The very very evil devil.

She buried under her blankets but couldn’t really get comfortable. Clumsily, she felt behind her until she could unhook her bra. She had only hazy memories of the previous night. Cinna had dropped her off, had helped her out of her shoes and, at her insistence, her dress and then she had collapsed on her bed in her underwear… He must have tucked her in before taking Portia home.

Everything else…

Had she dreamed the whole thing with the car mishap or…

Eventually, her bladder prompted her to leave her bed. She dragged herself to the bathroom, spent too long wondering if she was going to throw up and then, when it turned out she likely _wasn’t_ no matter what her stomach wanted her to think, she turned on the shower and sat under the lukewarm water for a long, long time.

The previous day had been terrible from start to finish.

Well, perhaps the very last part hadn’t been _that_ bad, she mused, thinking back to stormy grey eyes…

She emerged from her bathroom wrapped in her fluffiest bathrobe and wandered to the kitchen in search of her clutch. She found it on the kitchen table, along with the big leather jacket that didn’t belong to her. She brushed her fingers against the slightly crackled leather with a small smile. She hadn’t dreamt the whole thing then…

_Which meant she had been drunk enough to key a stranger’s car…_

A wave of shame and guilt washed over her. She had been lucky the two guys had been nice, really. It could have gone down a lot of different bad ways.

She had one missed call from her mother that she would _not_ be returning any time soon and one text from an unknown number that sent a jolt to her stomach. She told herself to stay calm though. All flirtation aside, the guy – _Haymitch_ , she recalled, his name was Haymitch – probably just wanted her to pay for the repairs. Which she would _totally_ do because, _truly_ , what had she been _thinking_? It was likely she had imagined the whole attraction thing anyway. She had been so drunk… Or her liquor addled brain had sublimed him because what were the chances of her keying a _handsome_ guy’s car, really?

She didn’t open the text at once.

She opened the conversation with Portia first. ‘ _Not coming in today.’_

There was _no way_ she was going to the shop. It was a work day not a week-end, hopefully it would be slow enough that she wouldn’t be missed.

_‘Me neither. Cinna said he’d manage.’_ came the immediate reply. ‘ _I feel like an elephant is sitting on my head.’_ Three dots and… _‘Sweetie, that was a WILD night.’_

_Wild_ was an understatement.

‘ _Sorry I got you in trouble_.’ she sent before tapping out of the conversation and letting her thumb hover over the new text from the unknown number. She could only see a few words with it unopened and it was about _vandalism_.

Another text from Portia came in, stopping her from actually opening it. ‘ _Any news from sexy not-Seneca-car’s-owner?’_

_‘I’ll let you know.’_ she typed back, then she bit the bullet and tapped on the unknown number’s conversation.

It was a list.

_‘Vandalism of private property (one car). Larceny (theft of one leather jacket + one wallet with ID, two credits cards and a hundred bucks in cash). Public intoxication (suspicion: tequila). Just a list of your crimes in case you have troubles remembering last night, sweetheart…’_

Her stomach plummeted.

That didn’t sound very encouraging, did it? Perhaps she had been so drunk she had imagined the whole flirting last night. Or he had been drunk too and that was why he had been flirting back and now he was sober and…

Wait…

What did he mean she had stolen his wallet?

She glanced at the jacket abandoned on her table and hesitantly patted it until she felt something hard. There was an inner pocket and, indeed, inside that pocket was an old nondescript black wallet.

She winced.

She wasn’t quite sure what to answer to that. Certainly another apology was in order but… She drummed her fingers on the side of her phone, hesitant.

_‘I object to the larceny charge, officer. The jacket was given to me WITH the wallet inside. Careless on the victim’s part ;)’_

She sent it before she could reconsider. There. A playful text that followed along his cop fantasy and she would add a more serious apology once he would answer.

She didn’t expect an immediate response given the time of day but her phone chimed before she could even reach for the coffee maker.

_‘That’d be detective. Not officer.’_

Effie frowned. That was taking the role-play a bit far first thing in the morning. She took the time to flick the switch on the coffee maker and to pluck a cup from the cupboard before picking her phone back up, not quite sure how to salvage this.

She had liked the guy the night before, she had felt a real connection, but she had also been very very drunk so her judgment might not be too trustworthy.

_‘I am really sorry about the car.’_ she typed after a few seconds. _‘I will pay for the repairs.’_

Dots appeared on the screen, disappeared, reappeared and disappeared again.

Well… At least she wasn’t the only one who wasn’t sure how to handle this, she mused. She downed two pills for her headache and then sat down at the table to sip her cup of coffee, wondering what to do with the rest of her day. Feeling miserable for herself seemed a given. One brief foray on _instagram_ told her Seneca and his boyfriend had gone public, to better advertise her humiliation no doubt.

He could have, _at least,_ been a gentleman and let people think she was the one who had broken things up…

_‘Don’t worry about the car.’_ came the sudden text. _‘I need the wallet back though. Badge’s inside. Need it 4 work.’_

His badge?

Either he was living this fantasy of his too far or…

She wasn’t one for snooping but necessity must, she decided, and grabbed the wallet she had placed back in the jacket’s inner pocket. No wonder it was so bulky. There was indeed a badge inside. A detective badge.

_Oh shit._

She mentally berated herself for the curse but still. _Shit_.

He actually _was_ a detective? _Detective Haymitch Abernathy_. It all checked out. The badge, the ID card, even his library card…

She had keyed a detective’s car.

In a panic, she switched back to the conversation with Portia. _‘He’s a detective.’_

It was almost a whole minute before her friend texted back. _‘Yes. Chaff told us last night. Well, me. I thought you had gotten it.’_

She hadn’t gotten that part of the conversation _at all_.

Then again, once she had decided she was interested in sleeping with Haymitch, she hadn’t been aware of much.

He could have arrested her.

The idea should have been terrifying – because her parents would have _disowned her_ – but then her mind wandered to handcuffs and…

Her dirty fantasy was interrupted by another text from Haymitch.

_‘We could meet somewhere public if you want.’_ She was about to answer when two more texts came in. Fast. As if he didn’t dare pause to think. _‘Or I can come pick it up. Bring food.’_

Oh, that was much better. Much less serious than the previous text. Perhaps he was just very bad at flirting through texts.

_‘Breakfast?’_ she replied, barely flicking her eyes up to check the time. They were well past breakfast time but she didn’t think she had the stomach for anything else.

_‘Sure.’_ came the immediate answer.

She could leave it at that, she figured, see what would come out of it once he would be there but…

_‘In bed?’_ she teased.

He answered so fast it brought a pleased smile to her lips.

_‘I’m sure I can find something to eat in there…’_

The implied offer sent a thrill down her spine. She shot him her address and then almost _ran_ to the bedroom to find an appropriate outfit. She didn’t want to look too eager so she bypassed her most _risqué_ lingerie but she also wanted to look appealing enough that he wouldn’t regret coming over – _and_ letting her go free after she vandalized his car.

She settled on a red lacy nightgown slightly see-through on the chest – sexy but not vulgar – and hurried to apply some light make-up on her face. She was just finishing brushing her hair when her doorbell rang.

That was quick.

She opened the door without checking and there he was, a bit flushed as if he had been in as much of a hurry as she had been.

Their eyes met and, one thing was for sure, she hadn’t imagined the connection the previous night. She felt it again. A startling jolt. A _thrill_.

His grey eyes slowly left her face to take her in, heaving breasts and endless legs before coming back up just as slowly.

“You shouldn’t answer the door looking like this…” he said. He had a good poker face, the roughness in his voice was the only hint that he was hot and bothered.

She grinned and stepped back, tacitly inviting him in. “Why? Is it a crime?”

He licked his lips as he walked over the threshold, nudging the door shut behind him. “Should be.”

“Will you arrest me for it?” she purred, walking back until she felt the wall behind her.

“Can’t. Someone stole my badge.” He snorted, stepping right into her space. “Might have to _detain_ you though.”

She brushed her fingers against his shirt and, when he didn’t move, grabbed it a bit more confidently, tugging him forward. He propped both arms against the wall, over her head, caging her in.

“You’re sober yet?” he asked.

She held his gaze as long as she could while she leaned forward to brush her mouth against his throat. His Adam’s apple bobbed up and down. “ _Very_.”

“Good.” he commented.

It was the only warning she got before she was lifted up by two strong arms under her thighs. She wrapped her legs around his waist instinctively though. Then he was kissing her and…

_Wow._

His kisses were rough and demanding. She tried to battle him for control and ended up pinned harder against the wall for her troubles.

_She loved it_.

His big hand pushed the strap of her nightgown off her shoulder, freed a breast from the lacy fabric… His mouth wandered down her throat in wet kisses before closing on her nipple…

“Gorgeous…” he muttered against her skin. “Been thinking about doing that since last night…”

She tugged his shirt off, forcing it over his head when he was too reluctant to take his mouth off her breasts…

She wasn’t entirely sure how they made it to her bed because, suddenly, it was all about getting naked and hands exploring newfound flesh… There was some giggling on her part and some chuckling on his but eventually he pushed her flat on her bed and he was spreading her legs…

She only belatedly remembered his promise for breakfast when he quickly kissed down the inside of her thighs and went straight for the prize.

She tangled her fingers in his hair to guide him, which prompted some groaning on his part.

“Bossy.” he mocked before doing something with his fingers that was very, very wicked.

He had already accused her of that the previous night, hadn’t he?

“You have no idea…” she mumbled, a bit incoherent.

Her orgasm washed over her like a wave and it was _so good_.

She hadn’t come like that in a long time.

Perhaps _this_ was a better revenge than trying to key Seneca’s car…

She was a bit dazed but she felt cold when Haymitch moved away from her. He left the bed and she whimpered, not quite understanding why he was leaving before the main course.

“Easy, sweetheart…” He flashed a smirk as he picked up his pants and checked the pockets…

He fished out a condom that he lost no time rolling on. Then he was back between her legs and, perhaps this was all a one-time-thing but she couldn’t help but think he _belonged_ there.

He didn’t ask for permission but he did pause long enough to give her time to object when he lined up with her. She rocked her hips, eager for more.

It took him three powerful thrusts to bury himself fully in her and when he was finally _there_ , she tossed her head back, teeth digging into her bottom lip…

“I am _so_ glad your car isn’t compensating for a small penis…” she whispered. He let out a round of startled chuckles, kissed her neck, her breasts and then her mouth… Which was all well and good but… She whacked his butt with her knee. “ _Move_ , Haymitch. _Hard_.”

He proved to be contradictory.

Because she wanted it hard, he took it impossibly slow, sliding out inch by inch to better slam back down…

She was trembling and moaning with building pleasure in no time.

“ _Shit_ , sweetheart, you’re so responsive…” he mumbled.

When he brushed his fingers down her throat, she opened her eyes to see him watching her with some quiet fascination. She wrinkled her nose, a look of uncertainty flashing on her face. “Am I being too loud? Seneca didn’t like it…”

Some people didn’t. It threw them off their own fun.

Something hard passed in his eyes. “Yeah, but he’s an idiot with a small _dick_ so who cares what that asshole thinks, right? Shout the roof down for all I care. You’re too _fucking_ beautiful like this…” He picked up the pace and if she had thought slow would kill her, this was… _Oh_. “I like the sounds you make… Make some more for me, princess…”

She had never been one for pet names but…

He pinched her clit when she wasn’t expecting it and she exploded with a cry. He let her ride it out before lifting her ass a little and pounding into her hard, chasing his own release… He came with a grunt and collapsed on top of her, his hips still rocking against hers…

It was a while before they both got their breathing back under control. Effie was still seeing stars when he propped himself on his elbows, relieving her upper body of his weight. They looked at each other for a long moment and she wondered if he was waiting for the awkwardness to set in too because, for all intend and purpose, they were literal strangers and…

Slowly, a bit hesitant, he leaned down and brushed his lips against hers. A question more than a kiss. Her body responded immediately, her legs tightened back around his waist… He was still inside her and she clenched around him, wondering if she could make him hard again, if…

“I only do hook-ups.” he muttered against her lips. “One-night-stands. _Whatever_. I don’t… I don’t do dating.”

She blinked, feeling like she had lost the plot there. “I didn’t ask…”

“Yeah, I know.” he cut her off, sliding his hand down her side in a caress that left goosebumps in its wake. “Thing is… I want to see you again. If you want.”

“Without dating?” she clarified and, really, it would have been easier to think if he hadn’t chosen _that_ moment to talk about that sort of things. “You mean, casually?”

He frowned a little like he wasn’t entirely sure what that entailed. “That means we still _fuck_ , yeah?”

She rolled her eyes. “We could be doing that right now, you know.”

She jutted her hips up to make her point and he pushed right back down with his. His hand left her thigh to brush her hair back, cup her cheek…

“It’s just… I don’t do dating or girlfriends or all that _shit_ but… I could tell last night… I’m gonna want you a lot more than once or twice.” he blurted out. “And I’m gonna want you in a lot of ways.”

That last part sent a thrill through her.

She wanted him to have her more than once or twice and she definitely wanted him to have her in a lot of ways too.

“Does one of those ways includes handcuffs?” she asked, faking innocence. “Because I _certainly_ would not mind _that_ …”

“Whoever that Seneca asshole is, he’s a _fucking_ idiot.” he said again, looking at her as if she was something _special_. It flustered her. 

But, well, she wasn’t going to argue with him there…

And she wouldn’t be too angry at Seneca anymore anyway, not when she had found so much better thanks to him, however accidentally it had happened…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that the last of it! I hope you enjoyed this silly story! Please let me know your thoughts!

**Author's Note:**

> Did you figure out what Haymitch and Chaff do for a living? Is she going to ask once she soberer? XD I hope you liked this! Let me know please!


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